Rick Stetler's Wetting
by tarheelveteran
Summary: Rick Stetler secretly hoped the team would celebrate his promotion to Lieutenant, but it looks like he's been snubbed again. But then he receives a call to a quiet nightclub. Takes place after the end of Hostile Takeover.


**Disclaimer: I do not own any of CSI Miami or its intellectual properties (though I wouldn't mind borrowing Rick)**

**A/N: A "wetting party" is a tradition in law enforcement and in the military. The new promotee buys the beer for the rest of the party. One or two pitchers of beer are poured. The new rank pins are then dropped into the beer, and he/she must fish them out in a short amount of time without getting his/her hands wet. If this doesn't happen, he/she gets beer dumped over his/her head. Takes place after the get-together at the end of Hostile Takeover**

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><p><strong>Rick Stetler's Wetting<strong>

The dust was finally settling. Matthew Sloan was in custody. Danielle Hansen had gone to the hospital with that gunshot wound, but she was expected to make a full recovery. The Firearms lab had been cleared. Everyone had been debriefed and gone home.

Everyone, that is, except Rick Stetler.

He now sat at the command center table, making sense of it all, sorting paperwork and scrawling his signature on statements. Somehow he had it in his mind that the Ops Security Commander would free him from doing so much paperwork. Another bubble burst.

The adrenaline had faded away, replaced by the usual tiredness and anger. In other words, things were back to normal. As always, he was left to clean up the mess and deal with the politics while, one by one, the CSI's walked out, able to just forget about everything for the day. He could tell that they were on their way to blow off a little steam and, as usual, he wasn't invited.

"What did Horatio tell you?" he heard Calleigh say to someone from behind him.

"Don't know. Just a get-together" Natalia said. "Said meet at this address and don't tell anybody outside the lab."

Rick could feel his breathing deepen as he tried to concentrate on those statements. Just seemed like he couldn't get a break. He'd waited years to make Lieutenant, and once again Horatio Caine was getting all the glory.

"Hey Calleigh! Nat! This the right address?" Ryan wanted to know as he walked out, showing his Blackberry.

Calleigh couldn't help but glance back at Rick, making sure he heard them. "Yeah. Wonder what's going on."

"Oh, and whatever we do, he said not to tell Stetler."

Rick stiffened up as he heard his name.

"Tell me what?" he demanded as he turned around, his eyes now blazing at them.

"Oh, uh, nothing, Rick" she said casually. "Horatio said there was a meeting for the CSI's. Supposed to be a surprise. Sorry, you really weren't supposed to know."

He snorted as he turned back and buried his head in his work, holding his pen tightly enough to snap it in two. Once again the hated IAB agent was on the outside looking in.

In the silence he felt his Blackberry buzz. He pulled it out of his belt clip.

SERGEANT STETLER. BE AT THE FOLLOWING ADDRESS. VERY IMPORTANT! LT CAINE

Well, that did it! Rick narrowed his eyes, so furious he could barely read the address. _Sergeant_ Stetler? After committing the address to memory, he slapped his Blackberry back into his belt clip and headed out to his car. This was the last straw!

_I might just be a brand new Lieutenant, but I'm gonna set Horatio straight once and for all! _

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><p>In his anger the IAB agent gripped the wheel all the way to the nice seaside address. He slammed his car door shut and stormed up the stairs, his purple tie trailing behind him, the words going through his head about how he was going to tell them off. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, one of them might be drunk enough to commit a conduct-unbecoming or something. He just had to let them know he was not going to take this anymore.<p>

As he stepped into the club, something just didn't seem right. The lights were off. Nobody in the room. Yet the door was unlocked. Rick glanced at his Blackberry again.

_This is the right address. _

He gathered himself and was just about to walk back out when….

"SURPRISE!"

The police officer in him reacted as the lights came on suddenly. He reached for his belt reflexively before remembering that he didn't carry a firearm.

One by one, Horatio, Jesse, Natalia, Frank, Ryan and Calleigh came out, applauding him. From the back and at the bars, more patrons and waiters came out, looking like they were expecting him.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

Horatio stood in front of him with that assured smile, just like he had many times before, like he had something planned.

"It's your promotion party, Rick!"

"What?"

"I guess you thought we forgot about you."

Reality was beginning to sink in. "Well, uh, yeah, I did" he stammered.

Horatio turned to the crowd and banged a beer mug on the table. "Can I have your attention, please?"

The room fell silent.

"Our colleague here, Rick Stetler, was just recently promoted to the rank of Lieutenant. In Law Enforcement, it's the tradition to have what's called a wetting-down party. The officer getting promoted has to buy the beer. So, be it known that Lieutenant Stetler just bought a keg for everyone in the house!" He motioned toward the side of the room. "Gentlemen?"

The crowd cheered and hooted as two waiters brought out a beer keg and set it on a table.

Horatio then held up two gold rank pins. "Mr. Wolfe, would you do the honors?"

With a smile, Ryan filled two pitchers full of beer and set them on another table. Rick's brown eyes just darted over the crowd.

"In the wetting-down party, these two rank pins each get dropped into these pitchers of beer. Lieutenant Stetler will have to fish these rank pins out without getting his hands wet. If he wants those rank pins, he has to do it in time for the promotion ceremony, which is in—" He glanced at his watch. "Two minutes!" He tossed the pins into each pitcher where they floated to the bottom.

Rick glanced at the crowd and put up his hand. "Aw no, Horatio! I can't drink that much in two minutes!"

"You're off the clock, Rick" he insisted.

"I can't drink that much, period!" A million scenarios raced through his head. He'd wake up in the lab wearing a pink negligee and high heels. Or he might wake up with some ugly woman in his bed, wearing his underwear. He might be videotaped doing a table dance. Horatio's team might duct tape him naked to his desk and take pictures. He might end up singing, throwing up, or worse. Right here in front of all these strangers.

With a determined smile, Horatio stood with hands on hips. "Well, I guess the Lieutenant has to take the easy way out. If he can't get his rank pins out by drinking, then we're gonna have to do it the other way. Do I have any volunteers?"

Jesse and Calleigh each picked up a pitcher and stood on either side of him, pitchers in the air.

Rick's eyes went wide as saucers as he held up his hands. "Hey, wait!"

Before he could say another word, Rick could barely hear the crowd laugh and cheer as Jesse and Calleigh upended the pitchers above his head. He shivered as he felt the cold beer go down his shoulders, his back, and finally all the way to his feet. He held his hands up and dipped his head.

Horatio reached into the now empty pitchers and picked up the rank pins. "You made it just in time, Rick. Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to announce that, by order of the Miami-Dade County Police Department, Rick Stetler is hereby promoted from Sergeant to Lieutenant!"

Calleigh and Horatio stood on either side of the wet IAB agent and pinned the gold pins on to his collar while the crowd cheered and raised their glasses again. His hair clung to him. Beer dripped off his chin and down his neck. His purple tie clung to him. His shoes felt squishy. There was a puddle on the wooden floor underneath him.

Getting doused with beer by Horatio's team was humiliating. But somehow, somewhere, Rick just couldn't be mad.

Horatio and Calleigh stood back while Jesse handed him a mug full of beer.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant!"

"Miami-Dade's Finest!" a voice yelled from the back.

The audience lifted their glasses and cheered one more time as Natalia handed him a white towel.

The beer baptism had chilled him to the bone. He was tired from being angry and frustrated. Rick wiped his face with the towel and took a sip. "Thanks."

As the crowd came around and filled their glasses from the keg, Rick wrung out his tie and the corners of his jacket. "I can't drive home like this. What am I supposed to tell the chief?"

Horatio nodded with a smile. "Don't worry, Rick. I've been having club sodas all evening."

The wet IAB agent took it all in before finally sipping his beer. "Horatio!"

Mug to his lips, the redheaded Lieutenant looked at him expectantly.

"Thanks."


End file.
